


Cornered

by Demial



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Collars, F/M, Finger Sucking, I beat the collar kink to death, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Standing Up, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Vaginal Sex, i love it, porn with little bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:32:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demial/pseuds/Demial
Summary: Support reader found alone and is used by Reaper.My stuff's always better whenpoutypanicproofreads it. ^^





	1. Chapter 1

You knew you'd wandered too far when you heard the overly loud footsteps of the enemy becoming louder and louder as it came towards you. You flattened yourself against the wall, in a vain hope of hiding from their sight. Maybe they would walk right by without seeing you, like the movies. But it wasn't going to happen, because the person following you was Reaper. He was no fool.

You weren't above begging for your life when he spied you and started stalking towards you. He tossed his shotguns, and you felt a brief spark of hope. But then a fresh wave of terror took over your body when he didn't slow down.

When he reached you, he grabbed your arm. With strength you'd never hope to match, he spun you around and pushed you against the wall. You were still pleading with him to let you go. You were just the support. You had a barely useful weapon. You promised you wouldn't tell anyone he had gone soft if he just let you go. Please.

No answer.

With two strong hands, he pulled your hips flush with his. Then, as if he changed his mind, he stepped back. He pulled on the fabric of the seat of your pants, and you heard it slowly being ripped. Realizing what his intentions were, you cried out for mercy, but he slammed your chest against the wall with his free hand as a warning. You went silent, resigned to being compliant, hoping it would speed things along.

You heard the rustling and clicking of what you assumed was Reaper removing his belts and undoing his pants. His spare shotgun shells clattered against the floor as he let them drop.

You felt his hard armour on his stomach brush against your ass as he roughly pressed the thick head against your tight hole. He had to work a little to get the entire length in. In doing so, he forced a whimper out of you, because the feeling of fullness was something you'd been craving until now. It left you feeling incredibly conflicted. When he was satisfied with how deep he was, you almost thought you heard him exhale in pleasure. As if he had been waiting for this for an ungodly long time and finally found some relief. He raised his right hand up to your chin, and you thought he was going to choke you. It wouldn't have surprised you if he was into that sort of thing. But his hand continued moving up, and he tapped on your lips gently with the tip of one of his claws. You opened your mouth, and he shoved three fingers inside. He let the cool metal rest on your tongue, and your lips relaxed closed around them.

As if to get a feel for being inside you, he started slowly, with shallow thrusts. He soon picked up speed, and a minute later, you found yourself being fucked into the wall. You braced yourself with your forearms and your breasts brushed gently against the wall with every thrust, pleasantly squishing your nipples. 

His other hand came down to the front of your pants. Without hesitation, he shoved it between your legs. He hooked his fingers around the area where your traitorous clit was begging for attention. Being careful of his claws, he began rubbing relentlessly at the sensitive flesh between your legs. He didn't let up until he felt your muscles spasm around his hard length, the indication that you had cum. He resumed his punishing thrusts, chasing his own end. It came when you heard the first sound from his mouth: a low, grating combination of a groan and a grunt, as his warmth spilled up into you.

He practically lifted you off his cock. When he let go, your legs gave out. You sank down, limp, and rested your forehead against the wall. You ignored him, hoping he would do the same and walk away.

He did, but before doing so, his words sent a chill down your spine. It was a combination of excitement and fear.

"See you again soon."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught again! This time he secrets you away to play with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think some of this kinda thing has been written about Reaper before, but as a thirsty writer, you have a need to write certain things. It isn't like any of you will complain. More porn is still _more porn_. Right?!

His claw circled your entrance, and you clenched. Not because he was hurting you, but it was cold on your hot flesh. You lay on your back, on a coffee table, the same hole ripped into the seat of your Valkerie suit. Reaper is seated on the sofa next to the table, with a full view of your spread figure.

The position you were in already had you worked up and slightly sweaty. You took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to let some of your arousal out with your breath. You succeeded, somewhat. He continued to tease your flesh with the gentlest of touches. His off-white mask was cocked, his eyes studying your face and body. He's trying to draw this out; trying to torture you in the most sinfully sweet manner. The touches were soft enough that you could close your eyes and mentally drift elsewhere...

Something cold poked into you, making you jolt.

"Where do you think you're going?"

How could he tell? You opened your eyes, and Reaper was leaning over you, his mask appearing to hover in the dim light against his black clothing. He leaned far enough that he could reach out and cradle your chin with his other gloved hand. His thumb rose up and the metal claw settled on your lower lip. The condition for his gentleness was that if you were obedient for him, he would return you to Overwatch. In whatever shape he deemed fit.

You wanted desperately for this to be over, but if you begged him to hurry it up, you were sure his pace would turn reckless. So you let your jaw drop an inch, relaxing your mouth open.

"Good girl," he said, pressing in the thick digit.

It rested on your tongue just like his fingers did in the first encounter. He growled deep in his throat with a slow vibrato, a pleased noise. Its animalistic nature sent a chill crawling down your spine. The chill found its home in your nethers, and you whined at the unfairness.

Reaper finally took the claw from your cunt, and a string of your slick came with it. He examined it. He grunted a short laugh, as if he couldn't believe what a dirty slut you were to get so wet so soon. His hand disappeared as he fiddled with one of his belts. You fought your rising panic. You weren't ready to be penetrated. You brought your hand up to grab onto his wrist, but the claw on your tongue reminded you to stay settled. Instead of discarding his belt, he leaned forward a little more, his grip on your jaw tightening a tad.

"You're my good girl."

It was a statement, not a question. A reminder to keep being pliant. So he could remove his thumb and use both hands to wrap the belt around your neck without you trying to escape. You let your hand drop back down. He tightens the belt until two of his fingers fit snug between the leather and your skin. Your breath puffs out of your nose in annoyed disbelief, because you remember that's how you make sure a collar isn't too tight on a dog.

His fingers slip out from under the collar, and the metal claws leave trails of cold as he lets them brush against your neck. You know he's sitting back, because the white mask shrinks in size, moving away from you. He removes the rest of the obstacles between the open air and his penis, which is the same colour as the skin showing on his upper arms. You watch him leisurely stroke himself hard, and the thought that the unnatural colour of his cock doesn't bother you pops up unbidden.

You leaned your head back, shutting your eyes, and inwardly groaning with disgust at yourself.

He removes his mask. It was one of the things that stood out in this dark room, one of the things that kept you anchored to reality. So when his mask disappears to somewhere near his side, the room is almost completely dark like your bedroom is dark at night when you sleep. You think maybe this is a dream. Maybe you'll wake up soon. The belt brushing against your neck when you swallow reminds you that you won't.

You're a little grateful when he leans over you again, and his eyes shine in the darkness, reflecting the tiny amount of light in the room. You can just barely make out his facial features. The outlines of what might be a brow bones, cheeks, nose, and mouth. Darkness in between these features might be facial hair. It's hard to tell. Strangely, his eyes are searching yours, and a question emerges in his expression. It disappears as quickly as it comes. _Why aren't you fighting me more?_ His conclusion: you want it.

You swear you could feel the heat radiating from his erection, and by now you must be embarrassingly wet. You wonder how close it is to your entrance. Five inches? Two? How much more would he have to lean forward for his cock to meet its match in your cunt? An intoxicating high is creeping up, threatening to overtake your ability to fight. _It's wrong; Don't_. The next thought is: _fuck it, I'm an adult_.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and try to drag him down to you, to get his mouth within reach. He's spent all this time winding you up, and you need relief like you've never felt before. It's pathetic, but you're bucking your hips desperately in the direction you think his dick is.

"Calm down, girl." 

He pressed a hand down on the side of your hip. When you go still, he rewards you by meeting your needy lips. He opens his mouth immediately for you, and you respond greedily, sucking, almost trying to swallow his tongue. He starts to slide into you, his erection going in easily from how wet you are. He goes frustratingly slow, filling your insides inch-by-inch.

You whine into his mouth in protest. The only punishment you receive is him biting down on your lower lip, which he then pulls gently. The high has taken you completely at this point. When he lets go of your lip, and he's completely buried within you, you wrap your legs around his hips in a vise-like grip and beg:

"Fuck me. Please."

He growls again, and his eyes flare red before going back to their usual black. He's taller than you, so he has to leave your mouth to avoid being awkwardly hunched over. He plants his gloved hands on the other edge of the coffee table, digs in the claws, and slams into you once. It's powerful, and he's testing your reaction. When he doesn't continue, you can only beg some more.

"Please..."

He resumes slamming into you. It's not fast per se, but it's plenty rough, which is what you'd been craving. The coffee table starts rocking, and you're pushed backwards across the smooth surface. You're now grateful for his arms behind above you, because they keep you from sliding off the table.

Reaper is, for the most part, silent, which isn't strange considering that he's been mostly silent previous to now. All the words you've both spoken up until this point have sounded really loud in the darkness. It feels like you'll shatter the mood if you're too loud, but the sexual energy needs an outlet. And there's a lot of it coiling inside of you. Your legs are too weak at this point to stay clenched around his waist, so you settle for biting into the lapel of his cloak that hangs down in front of your face. Your hands grip fabric, scrabble at chest armour, and slam down onto the wood beneath you.

The loudest sounds right now are Reaper panting into your hair above you, and the sharp slap of the skin-to-skin contact when his hips meet yours. The literal quiet is a filthy reminder of how you're going to keep this metaphorically quiet from your peers after this is finished. Speaking of being finished, you're afraid of that if you touch your clit at all, it'll be over for you, and Reaper will continue like nothing happened.

"Yessss," he hisses, fully buried in you.

You're a little surprised that he comes first, but to his credit, he keeps going before he starts to go soft. This is your cue to rub your clit. You've barely applied any pressure before a full-body orgasm takes you, and your hips lift off the table.

Reaper takes the belt off your neck before he withdraws from your sore cunt. You rub your neck, not feeling any soreness there in contrast.

When you come down from your high, you realize what you've done. The disgust at yourself returns. Reaper isn't going to let you go. He may let you return to Overwatch, but he considers you his now. He's tenderly licking up the mess between your legs, and all you can think is, _You fucking idiot_.


	3. Now You're Fucked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have an update with no context! You're with Reaper! Who cares why?! you wanna be!

"That was too easy, " purred Widowmaker.

"Boring is the correct word," Sombra complained. A few seconds later, "Are you sure this will accomplish anything? My sources say these Americans hate this president."

"You don' t know the American people," replied Reaper. "They always do."

"Aren't you American, Gabe?"

Sombra almost caught him off guard with that question. Just like he almost forgot to destroy the bug she insisted on planting on him every mission. Almost forgot to 'mistakenly' properly rematerialize everything on his body but the bug, then tossing it like the useless hunk of metal it became.

She's persistent; he'll give her that.

"Get your brown nose out of my business, Sombra," Reaper growled. He switched to a more professional demeanor. "We're done here. Let's return before Overwatch shows up."

"You are both so negative," said Widowmaker. "Don't rain on my parade. That was a fine kill."

Sombra scoffed.

"Even when you're happy, you sound like a Vulcan," she said.

Sombra did as ordered, despite her last bit of sass.

Good thing Reaper remembered to destroy that bug today, because he had somewhere to go. And at that destination was something Reaper knew could get him in trouble. Or at least, something any of the smarter members of Talon could use against him. He had gotten this far without getting attached to anything, going it alone. And then you showed up. Reaper punched a nearby wall. Like a dusty rug being beat in the afternoon sun, smoke burst out of his arm from the impact.

On the way to his destination, Reaper had some time to muse. He didn't know why all his ability to think straight went out the window when he saw you. When he saw you waiting for him at one of Talon's safe houses, he couldn't help the instinctual urge to protect you. A good owner protects his pet. Not to mention, he was the one who got you into this. He was momentarily reminded of when Blackwatch picked up Agent Jesse McCree, but this was different.

It wasn't all on him, though. The reason you followed him to this safe house...he didn't know that, either. It was so stupid of you. He could have killed you so many times by now, and it would be smart of Overwatch to assume you were brainwashed like Amelie. He wondered if you could force information out of a willing partner by fucking them hard enough. Punishment for being stupid enough to follow him and because he really, really want to feel the inside of you. His train of thought stopped there.

Reaper burst into the room you were in (old bad habit of his) but caught the door handle before it slammed into the wall. It wasn't loud enough to wake you. You were lying on the bed, taking a nap under a window. The blinds on the winder were shut, but they let in enough light. Enough that Reaper could see that you were wearing one of his shirts. This was a safe house he frequented enough that he stored some extra essentials here. A quick glance at the set of nondescript drawers told him that you had made a bit of a mess finding that shirt. He hated that kind of mess. Something he would just have to fuck you a little harder for.

He approached the bed. Up close, he could see that you were only wearing the shirt. You looked so comfortable, lying on top of the covers, but it was time to disturb you. He knelt down and pinched the hem of the shirt between two clawed fingers. He dragged it down to properly cover your fleshy nub. Instead of it meaning to protect your modesty, he grazed it with the shirt fabric. When you didn't stir, he properly caressed you with it. Then he continued to gradually ramp up the pressure until you opened your eyes. You greeted him with a sleepy half-smile. If he hadn't woken you up the way he did, you might have had more to say. Instead, you put your hand over his, bucking up into the shirt.

When it was enough, he grabbed the top of the shirt, and firmly pulled, making you stand. Rather than waste time unbuckling, his belts dissolved into black mist, and then the mist in turn dissolved into the air. Jesus Christ, he was already rock hard just from the thought of his dick in your mouth. He had to take better control of the situation. 

"On your knees, girl," were the first words he spoke to you since he arrived.

He almost groaned at the sight you immediately lowering a knee, then the other. What a rush. Then he hesitated, the white mask staring down at you. Something was not quite to his liking. A tendril of his mist sprouted from his body, snaked out into the air towards you, and it meandered in circles around your body.

"Stay, girl," he ordered, just in case it spooked you.

It wound tighter and tighter, until it closed in around your neck. It formed one of his missing belts. Reaper removed his mask to properly admire the sight of you on your knees, collared like the obedient little puppy he considered you. He smiled, but you couldn't see it in the dark.

He watched your face relax into a blank expression. It was like collaring you turned your mind off. You blinked back at his mask as he continued to stare down at you. His desire coiled and uncoiled inside him, and he absentmindedly slid his palm down the front of his pants. He felt almost as hot as he could once before he permanently became this creature. If he had been that man he used to be, he would have begun to sweat.

If it were not for his aching erection, Reaper would have forgotten why you were on your knees in the first place. He was so pleased with you, and it was more than lust. It felt right. He freed himself from behind his zipper, a tantalizing string of precum connected the head to where it used to be tucked away. Reaper didn't even have to command you this time; your shoulders relaxed, and you crawled, closing the small space between your mouth and his cock. You suckled gently on the head.

His breath hissed out between his teeth. That hit the spot. He mused that it had not been that long since he'd fucked you, but having your lips on his cock scratched a strong itch. This did not raise a red flag in his mind. Instead, he continued to look down at you, his eyes slowly closing like a pleased cat. He let you savour his cock like it tasted sweet. It was when he was halfway did he remember that he intended to fuck you in the first place.

"Stop," he said, "Stand up."

You let his cock fall out, and it bounced up into a more upright position. He couldn't help flexing the muscles to make it dip slightly.

"Come to me," he demanded gently, holding out his arms.

You stood up and got close to his body, looking up him. You braced yourself on his forearms, and he wrapped them around you. When he lifted you up, you reflexively wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Hang on," he breathed. Mist billowed from his mouth into your face. He was losing some control of his form. You caught the scent of fresh soil and wet stone; like a graveyard on a rainy day. You cross your forearms behind his neck. He rumbled his satisfaction.

"You're going to like this," Reaper boasted.

One gloved hand held onto your tush, the cold metal making you twitch forward. His eyes crinkled at that. The free hand purposefully fumbled pressing his pulsing erection into you, dragging the head against the needy flesh between your legs. He watched the shine of your eyes disappear in the darkness as they closed and almost rolled back into your head.

Reaper completed the act, sliding all the way in. The shine reappeared as you opened your eyes. You couldn't see each other's eyes, but you looked for them anyway as he began to thrust up into you. You responded by rolling your hips in his direction.

He pulled you closer against his body. You should have come in contact with the spare shotgun shells on his chest, but they were mysteriously gone. In their place was fairly smooth skin. No hair, but there were imperfections here and there. You leaned further, resting your nose and lips against the skin in front of you. The closest thing to intimacy you dared to show. He was warmer than you thought. He seemed more human than before, and strangely that went to the space between your legs.

And then you were peaking, your quivering legs squeezing his waist the same time your inner muscles squeezed his cock. Fuck, that felt good. You sagged on his cock, your head dropping down so that your forehead rested against his chest.

"Fffuck," he swore, the thrusts slowing to a stop. This time his cum leaked down your inner thighs. He swore a second time under his breath. He shifted his weight, and yours, as he came down from his high. You shared an oddly intimate kiss, but neither of you had any illusions that it was romantic.

He had every intention to leave you to clean yourself. The adjoining bathroom was spotless because he had no need to use it. But the lights flicked on, illuminating Reaper's naked form. Only his gloves remained.

Vitiligo. That was the first word that came to mind while looking at Reaper. Except it didn't look like vitiligo at all. You just didn't have another word for it. His skin was washed of all colour. Uneven, wide stripes of white and light gray ribboned around his body, blending into each other. That explained the whiteness of his arms that showed through his body armour. It didn't give you any clue as to how he came to look like this, though. You wanted a look at his eyes, but Reaper was looking at the door. A tall, slim woman stood in the doorway.

He pulled at your arms, and you got down off his body. His mist enveloped his form with his usual combat gear. You thought the woman would stay in the doorway, but she strutted over to look down her nose at you.

"I see why you went _dark_ on us, Reyes," the slim woman said, her delicate lips pulled gently in a smirk, "Cute. Is she your new pet?"

"I told you not to use my real name! You're getting cocky working for Akande, Lacroix," sneered Reaper, "Sharing his bed, too?" 

She opened her mouth to reply, no doubt with a cutting remark, but a loud blam sounded in the room. Her body fell to the floor with a thud, and Reaper lowered one of his giant shotguns. Shock made your stomach flip. You didn't understand why he did that. They worked together, that you knew.

"Why-" 

"Shut up!"

You didn't expect Reaper to snap at you. Black smoke hung in the air around him like rain clouds threatening to pour. He rolled one shoulder in annoyance and thought better of his nasty tone. He rumbled a nasally growl and said softer, "I need to think. And she was miserable, anyway."

That was a one-two punch of horrible things. Your mouth hung open. You stared at the shape of the body formerly known as Widowmaker lying in a heap. It wasn't the shape of something that had been a living, moving human being just a few seconds before. It was some kind of broken doll at best. While you stared, he slipped the shotgun underneath his coat. Reaper took his now-empty hand, engulfed yours in his, and pulled. You shut your mouth and figured you had no choice but to go along with him for now. You didn't have a better plan as of yet, and he would keep you alive, if anything.

Some of the black smoke lingered in the room after the two of you left.


	4. A Bad Pet is Punished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Genji, but sometimes I just gotta write other characters or I'll go nuts. Fuck me if I know where this is going, my dudes. Just enjoy it, eh?

The baristas at the Starbucks looked like they were ready to ask you if you needed to be rescued. You had walked in with Gabriel, tall and thick with muscle, disguised in worn, black jeans and a blacker hoodie, the hood kept up to carefully hide his face from any angle. An outfit born of his special abilities.

You _did_ nag him about his fashion sense, because no man his age dressed like that without looking homeless or something.But Gabriel didn't listen. Said he felt comfortable in clothes like this.

But anyway, you paid with the cash he gave you and waited at the counter for your coffee. The young woman who handed you your finished frappuccino had the courage to ask, "Why are you with him, Girl?" with a concerned quirked brow.

You laughed and said, "Oh, he's a _monster_ in bed!"

"Let's go," Gabriel hissed, tugging you away by the shirt sleeve.

You stopped outside the Starbucks to shoot him a triumphant grin.

"What, you didn't think that was funny?"

He ignored your question and went straight into lecturing you. His eyes lit up with anger. "Don't draw attention to us! If I had known you were a little showoff, I'd have kept you at the safehouse."

The ember red of his eyes died back to black when he stopped his little rant. You regarded him from beneath your eyelashes, head down.

"I thought it was harmless. They were scared of you. A little humour could help."

Gabriel was still not taking in what you said, still on his own track of thinking.

"We should move on," he said, thinking about your and his' next move.

Your past month had been spent at a modest, two-story safehouse. It was fully furnished with running water and electricity. It was just like a real home. Gabriel had been saving it to retire there back when he was Commander Reyes. It had been put aside and keep secret while he was Reaper, only now having a use for it. You loved the house and wanted to stay. Gabriel found that foolish, even if the thought had crossed his mind. No way would you and he be able to hide from Talon there forever.

"Why? No one has found us for a month. Sombra never found us by now, so..."

"That's because I blackmailed her, but it'll only buy us so much time. Especially after I got rid of Lacroix."

You looked away from Gabriel, overwhelmed by the gravity of what he said and remembering what had happened to Widowmaker. It was obvious, even to you, that Talon would not appreciate this and come after him. You would be in danger. You put the straw of your drink to your mouth to sip it. Some sugar would make you feel better. You sucked a large gulp, then asked, "Blackmail...?"

"Yes," he tossed over his shoulder, "I know more about this than you, so I'd appreciate you keeping your mouth shut while I think about how to keep us both alive."

_You're alive?_ , was the unasked question on your mind.

"What if I don't shut up?"

You had been tentatively poking at the edges of Reaper's patience during the month you spent at his retirement home. You said more, acting less like a depressed prisoner and more like an antagonistic wife.

"You shut up real quick when I fuck you," Gabriel spat, turning around. "Little Miss Stockholm Syndrome."

His words were a slap in the face, and you flinched. He took what you had been desperately denying the past month and said it out loud. Shamed you with it. As if he hadn't been the one burying himself in you almost every day or night. Reaper needed you as much as you needed him, and you were beginning to see this.

"I could leave," you threw out there, arms defiantly by your sides.

"Oh? Where are you gonna go? Where are we? Without a cell phone, do you even know?"

Your shoulders sagged.

"I'm gonna take you back to Overwatch."

That had you all kinds of alarmed. You couldn't go back. You couldn't just waltz in and say, "Yeah, I've been sleeping with the enemy for over a month, but can I come back now as if nothing happened?" What a whore you were. Reaper's whore.

"Please don't," you said quietly.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Gabriel-"

He grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the front of the Starbucks. Away from the view of any strangers. He was holding the arm with the drink, so you dropped it. Sadly, you had only finished half.  He took you down an alley between two business, where they received their shipments of supplies through back doors. You whined at him to let go, but he coldly ignored you.

Gabriel pushed your back against the brick wall. His eyes glared red at you. The details of his outfit receded as be became Reaper again, his trenchcoat forming on his body.

You knew where this was going and welcomed. You looked up at Reaper with a smirk.

"You know I like-"

Reaper spun you around and shoved you against the wall. He stepped forward to trap you there, and the memories of the first time he took you sprang forth in your mind. Same position, same man. Same you. Messed up just under the surface and weak enough for a man like him to take advantage of. You shivered with the same mix of fear and animalistic lust as last time. He was trying to prove a point, that you shouldn't be with him. But you weren't having it. You wanted to go home and fuck in what had to come to be the bedroom you shared with Gabriel.

"Gabriel!"

You pushed back with your hands on the wall, but Reaper's body was like another wall at your back. Your struggling did nothing. His hand rose quickly to wrap around your throat. He inched it up to your jaw and slowly forced your head back. His chest and stomach were flush with your body.

"Stop," he said.

The single word drained your will to fight.

"Good girl," he praised softly with that dark, gritty voice that stole every thought from your mind.

Reaper took his hand from your throat. You swallowed, testing for soreness, and found he had placed your collar around your neck without you noticing. He ground the tent in his trousers against the cleft between your cheeks.

"This seem familiar? Huh?"

He knew it did, because otherwise you wouldn't have struggled. Reaper pushed his forearm across the back of your shoulders to hold you against the wall, even though you weren't going anywhere. He ran his claws down your back like a shiver and then teased your entrance with the poke of a single claw through your clothes. Against your better judgment, you whined for more stimulation, and you slid your feet against the ground to open yourself up for it. Reaper leaned in.

"Oh, are you going to be good now?"

Your mouth refused to function, so you nodded.

"Good girl."

Reaper had trained you to associate that praise with a rough fuck, either in the throat or in your slick depths. Your jaw dropped open to voice your need, to hurry this up, but you still couldn't make any noise.

"A good pet is patient," he stated.

Whether or not that was intended as such, you took his words as torture. That you had to wait. The collar gently constricting your throat reminded you to stay still, but you trembled with the effort.

A tug on the back of your pants told you he was tearing the fabric. The open air on your skin made you spread your legs a couple inches further. You were one step closer to being filled with his cock.

"I'll buy you another," he said, easily tearing your underwear as well. "You know I treat my pets well."

It was true. The pair of underwear you were wearing was bought by him. You remember him fucking you through one of the leg holes the day he gave it to you. To test if he liked it on you.

He guided your hips to jut out, then he bent his knees. He didn't need the ceremony of removing his remaining belts anymore. You both knew he could remove the obstacles at will with his mind.

He didn't need to prepare you, either. Your main source of exercise lately had been clenching your thighs in orgasm. He would fit inside you like a hand insideawell-worn leather glove.

Reaper hummed.

"I really want to give it to you, but you've been naughty today."

"No, Gabriel," you begged, pathetic and shrill.

"Ohhh, are you gonna cry? You gonna cry until I give you dick?"

Reaper laughed at you. You were about to whine some more, but he pushed the head of his cock past your entrance. He halted its advance, pulled out, and swiftly penetrated you again. Reaper held his cock steady and did this to you until you started to melt forward. When you went completely useless, he took your full weight and thrust fully inside.

Reaper started to jerk his body upwards, bouncing you on his cock. He knew your body now. Knew this position would drive the fat, rounded edge of his head crashing against your sweet spot with each bounce. It was unfair how quickly the pleasure mounted just behind your clit. No person should feel this good in an alley on a wanted murderer's cock.

"Be a good girl and tell me how this feels."

"Good," was your breathless answer. Even if you wanted badly to defy him, you couldn't defy an order while collared.

"How good? I want more detail, Pet."

"Fucking...good."

Reaper huffed a chuckle. He knew you couldn't give a proper answer right now and liked to hear you try.

Reaper held you around your chest, under your breasts, with one arm. The pads on three fingers of his gloves put pressurein between your legs. Blood pounded in the area in response. You withheld your orgasm out of defiance. He just rubbed your poor, sensitive flesh harder.

"Don't. Hold. Back. On. Me!"

Each word a commanding growl through his teeth. He was either losing his patience or close to the edge as well.

Reaper let go of your chest to tug on the collar to remind you who was in charge here. He pulled until he heard panicked gasps for air, then let go. Having put all your effort into fighting for air, you couldn't hold your end at bay anymore. You arched and squeaked at the intensity of the rush. He waited until he felt your cunt grip his cock to let his own orgasm loose.

"You actually did. Ffffuck. I'm still hard." He gripped your hair, the claws pleasurably scratching your scalp. He yanked your head and back against his chest. "Again!"

Reaper held your ragdoll body to his, forcing a second, weaker orgasm. He didn't finish; this was more about sending the message that you were his and that you fucked up today. Satisfied with your punishment, you both leaned forward against the wall. Reaper dragged down the collar to lick at the red ring left on your skin.

You teetered on your legs. He caught you when you fell. He wrapped you in his trench coat and slinked off into the shadows. Gabriel intended to go back to the safehouse, pack what you needed, and leave for Gibraltar whether you liked it or not.

"What would you do without me, you stupid little girl."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What's Mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565270) by [veroreos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veroreos/pseuds/veroreos)




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